Jumping Frog
by ChickWalker2000
Summary: Heyes and the Kid discover that Partnership is worth more than honesty or pride. A teenage, pre-outlaw tale.


_'The proper office of a friend is to side with you when you are in the wrong. Nearly anybody will side with you when you are in the right.'** Mark Twain.**_

"I never much minded having only dull or drunken folks to talk to. It's having just myself for company that I find insufferable," Heyes thought as he watched the saloon girl - Viccy, was it? He couldn't rightly remember her name, though she'd told it to him when she came to 'keep him company.'

"Handsome man like you got no right being lonesome, honey," she'd drawled at him, already half-drunk before Heyes'd bought her five drinks, or was it more? He didn't know. Anyhow, she'd been sitting with him making _very_ small talk for the last hour - hour and seven minutes to be precise - Heyes and the big old clock over the bar had kept constant company all evening. That and his battered, dented old pocket watch that he checked on every ten minutes or so, just in case the big bar clock had stopped; sometimes seemed it had, that, or time itself was slowing down. He looked at his watch again, ticking out the seconds to the pounding of his heart.

The girl downed another whiskey. Steeling herself for what's to come, Heyes thought sadly. Well, not with me. Not tonight. That was the last thing on his mind.

He managed a tight little smile for the girl as she fiddled with her stays under the cheap satin dress. How old was she? Sixteen? Seventeen? Probably younger - hers wasn't a life that favoured youthful looks. He didn't much want to go back alone to his room but he sure didn't want her company either.

He didn't know what else he was gonna do. He'd played about as much poker as a body could stand these past ten days. And won - enough so's every half-decent player in town knew enough to steer clear of him.

Viccy was watching him curiously. Probably wondering why he was taking so long to get going. It wasn't fair to the girl. She had business to do.

He stood up to leave; Viccy too, expectantly, hesitantly. He cupped her chin in his palm, kissed her faintly with closed lips and slid a twenty into her hand. She gripped his wrist and turned to the stairs, but he held her back and, with a faint shake of the head, tipped his hat to her and went out into the street.

It was a clear, crisp mountain night. The burning heat of day turning quickly frosty cold at these altitudes. He shivered and pulled his coat closer about him. Must be a starry night he thought, looking up at the dull amber sky, Couldn't tell from down here, too much light dazzling from bustling bordellos and saloons piled one on another. The streets were full as usual with whooping drunks and screaming whores staggering and laughing together. A group of filthy miners stood outside a dance hall howling tunelessly to the music playing inside. Music that followed Heyes as he walked down the boardwalks of Blair street - a dozen tunes from a dozen establishments crashing together in a hideous din that made his tired head buzz like a log full of bees.

He walked past the livery - still open at... what time was it? He slid into a darkened doorway before taking out his silver pocket watch - no point in tempting some footpad, and this town was full of them... ten forty seven. Late, but not that late.

He snapped the watch closed, gripping it tight like it was the dearest thing in the world to him as he looked up the street, down the street. He would have liked nothing better than to grab his horse and ride out for those pine clad mountains; away from this stinking, rutted, noisy, damnable hellhole of a mining town. But with no moon tonight there'd be no chance of following a trail and the roads were steep and rocky, and ran close to some awful deep drops; treacherous enough in daylight. All that gold coming out of those mountains... This was bandit territory. Who knows who might be lying in wait up in those forests, watching for a lonely traveller who just might have his pockets full of dust? Shoot first and be disappointed later. He swallowed down hard on instincts that screamed at him to ride out right this minute - Now!

Wait, he told himself again, wait till morning.

He thought about checking the telegraph office one more time. That clerk sure was going to be awful sick of seeing him before he was through. It'd be his sixth visit there today... not to mention yesterday, and the day before. He stomped purposefully off down the dusty street, but the office was closed. Course it was! It was nigh on eleven O' clock.

Heyes leaned up against the office wall with a sigh. He looked down at his scuffed boots and wondered what to do next. He thought about checking the railroad again, though he knew what they'd say... no more trains till Tuesday. And no Stage till Thursday. He'd checked that 'bout a dozen times too.

He pushed his hands deep into his pockets against the bitter chill, found a coin down there, wedged in the corner. He pulled it out - a grimy old dime. The one he'd tossed almost ten days ago when he and Kid had to decide who was going to ride out and deliver them documents to Leon Smiley, local big-wig in a town where the sheriff knew them on sight. A dangerous job then, but well paid, and simple enough, if you could avoid being seen by that sheriff.

So they'd tossed for it.

Heyes knew Kid wanted to go.

Boom town like Silverton, rich on a big strike, full of miners out on the town, flush with new found wealth and reckless with it was very heaven to a skilled and careful poker player like Heyes, but it was driving Kid crazy. He'd been going slowly insane in this noisy, claustrophobic little town, as restless and aching to get back in the saddle as he had been to get out of it when they'd arrived just a couple of days before.

'Sure, Silverton's an entertaining enough little place for a day or two,' Kid agreed as he tried once again to persuade Heyes it was time to move on. There were dance halls and whorehouses, bars and theatres enough to keep anyone amused a while. But they'd been there a week now and Kid said he was bored.

Heyes knew why his friend was so tense, and it wasn't out of boredom. Loathe though he was to pass up on so much easy money, Heyes was pretty up-tight and ready to leave himself.

Too much cash, too much booze, pretty girls and unskilled poker made for a bad mix. Add to that the usual assortment of bad cheats, con men, highwaymen and petty thieves who abounded in these mining towns and it wasn't surprising that gunfights, bar brawls and out and out murders were a daily occurrence. Heyes was jumpy as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs in case Kid got pushed to a fight - maybe even to back up Heyes. It'd happened often enough before, when he was winning a little too much too often. It was only a matter of time before some petty chancer; some hot-headed boy or two bit drunken would-be gunfighter called him out. He might get recognised and... hell, Heyes wanted Kid out of town as bad as he wanted to go.

So when the job offer came up, it seemed heaven-sent and only right that Kid should take it. Heyes made sure the coin-toss went his way.

But now he was late. Very late.

Heyes got a telegram from Kid when he arrived in Harperville. Took him 3 days to get there, shouldn't have taken more than one to do the job. H should have been in and out of there in less than a day. He wouldn't wanna be hanging around tin town in case the sherrif saw him. Nope, he'd have been back on the road right off. It was 10 days now since he'd rode out. Where in hell was he?  
Heyes'd sent a telegram back to Harperville enquiring, to be told no one knew of a Thaddeus Jones. He checked the local paper daily for notice of his capture - nothing. Even chanced walking in to the sheriff's yesterday on the pretence of checking on a rumour (settle a bet) that a big-name oulaw'd been apprehended in these parts. But no. No news of either Kid Curry or Thaddeus Jones.

If there was a problem, he'd have sent word. Wouldn't he?

For three days now, Heyes'd fought down the impulse to grab his horse and ride out the way Kid had come. He kept telling himself, it wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

And where would he look for him? The obvious place was the rode to Harperville, but that was a well travelled road. If anything had gone wrong there, someone would have found him. No, he kept telling himself - keep calm, keep a clear head. He'll be OK. He'll turn up safe tomorrow.

But it was almost three days now.

What if his horse had fallen? Gone lame? Died?

What if he was sick somewhere, delirious with fever?

Maybe he was lying in some ditch, stabbed, shot, bitten by a rattlesnake and waiting for Heyes to come find him. What if he'd been robbed...murdered?

Heyes fought down the panic rising again and tried to think logically - tried and failed. He just kept coming up with the same question.

'If he's safe, why hasn't he been in touch?'

To which the only logical response was - because he can't. Because something's happened, something bad. He isn't safe. He needs your help.

Heyes turned and ran for the livery . He couldn't wait around any longer.

Livery was closed.

Why? Why in God's name...? Notice said; open five AM till eleven PM. He pulled out his watch, angling it into the street light; ten past... Livery closed ten minutes ago.

"God dammit. God dammit!" He kicked on the bolted, padlocked doors, setting off a hollow booming that sounded right down the street despite the clamour of music and laughter.  
Maybe he could break in? He could pick that old padlock in ten seconds flat. Weren't like he was stealing! It was his horse after all.

He stood there, leaning his head against the swaying doors, trying to think - half-frantic. Saw the deputy, picking his teeth with a penknife, watching him from under a street lamp.

Deputy started to walk over. Heyes ran his fingers through his damp, sweaty hair, replaced his hat and walked off down an alley, losing himself, quick as he could in welcome shadows.

Back at the hotel, he locked the door behind him, checked the view of the street from the window before making sure it was latched, then pulled down the blind. He lit the lantern, then pulled a chair over to the door and wedged it under the handle - did all this without thinking; instinct taking over despite the panic rising in him. He began to pace the room and think.

Kid hadn't been taken. Kid Curry's capture was news big enough to be all over the territory by now, so he ruled that out. What were the chances he was just busy with some girl? If he were... Heyes began to get angry - But... Kid knew Heyes was a worrier. He just wouldn't do that to him, not without letting him know.  
No. The more Heyes thought about it, the more he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

He couldn't breathe. He opened the window and took a few sharp breaths of frost cold air. He needed a drink, settle his nerves and stomach some. He'd go down to one of the saloons and get himself a bottle of whiskey.

The saloon he chose was a particularly sordid one. The reason he chose it was that it was one of the very few in town he hadn't yet frequented during his over-extended stay. He didn't want to be bothered by disgruntled drunks and losers who remembered to the last cent how much he'd won off them. Didn't want over-eager bar girls who remembered what a generous tipper he'd been, coming over to drape themselves all over him, tainting him with their cheap perfume. He just wanted to get his whisky and go.

He leaned over the bar, clutching his bottle, waiting for his change, staring into the mirror at the back of the bar. Saw his own pale and haggard face looking back at him; limp, flopping, dirty hair, eyes dark ringed - hell, he needed a bath and a shave. He looked a mess...

His attention got caught by a dark haired, skinny boy in a tired suit of clothes that hung off him like a wet flag on a line. The boy was playing poker. Playing well; he'd got a fair sized pile of cash there in front of him. Heyes smiled for the first time in days, watching in the mirror as the kid took another hand, raking the dollars into his holed and battered hat. That boy'd better be careful when he stepped out on that street, Heyes thought. Men don't like a cocky kid taking their money like that...

And with a flash that lit through his brain like sheet lightning, he remembered another poker game, fifteen years ago in Wichita, Kansas.

They'd been working as cowhands bringing cattle up from Texas to the Kansas railheads. Heyes was just sixteen, Kid a few weeks past his fourteenth birthday. Fourteen years old! Heyes tried to picture what he musta looked like, but couldn't. Far as he could remember, Kid had always looked the same, even when he was a kid for real. He'd been kinda skinny. And Heyes was skinnier still. Never could seem to eat enough to get any weight on him back then. Never could get enough to eat period. They were always hungry. Half the reason they signed on for the drive was for the free grub.

But hard work? He'd never known work like it before or since. As the youngest and least experienced they got to ride drag all the way. Got the smallest rations and the shortest breaks The two Kansas boys were always the butts of the Texan's jokes, and their tempers too.

But it was good experience for what was to come later. They were both smart and they learned quick - like, how to rope, tie and brand a steer. All came in real handy when they moved on to rustling the same men's cattle they used to drive. Heyes grinned at the memory. That earned em a whole lot more than fifty cents a day! Easier work and shorter hours too, he smiled.

And it was on that drive Kid started to really get to grips with that gun he'd bought with his first wages. He was good, with a talent that shone out of him right from the start. Kid's genius with that gun got him respect, and Kid liked that. He was determined to get better, wanted to be the best, the fastest gun in the west, he said. Just like in the Dime novels.

He took to watching other men, picked up tips, learned how to cut the holster low and tie it down for a quicker, smoother draw. Started practising every chance he got.

Oh, and he was fast too! Not like now, age fourteen he was just plain fast, not impossible. But back then it was almost magical to see because it had freshness and novelty for Heyes. Greased lightening was like a lead weighted snail by comparison.

And his aim was deadly, he never missed. He didn't even seem to take aim, just drew and pointed and cans jumped, bottles exploded, corks ripped apart. He was always shooting at something. He'd made up his mind to be the best, he said, and couldn't see any other way of getting there. When money was short (and it usually was) he'd cut out food, or a night in a bed rather than go without bullets. Practising, practising day and night till it even began to get on Heyes' nerves a little, that dedication. It drove Heyes half crazy sometimes.

But Kid wasn't the only one to discover new skills. It was on those too-short nights around the campfire that Heyes learned how to play poker.

If Kid was a wizard with a gun, Heyes was a magician with a pack of cards. And not just poker or blackjack. He discovered he was a dab hand at sleight of hand too, pulling all kinds of tricks for the amusement of the other cowboys. And where Kid had earned respect with his gun, Heyes got their affection for his ready smile, his way with a joke and a tall tale and his incredible skill with a pack of cards.

And when they left the drive in Wichita, discovering that thirty days of hard, bone cracking, sun burning work had earned them about enough for a couple of drinks and twelve nights in a cheap hotel - they decided enough was enough. They invested their earnings in a grub sack, two bed rolls, a tired horse and saddle and plenty of ammunition and headed north for Abilene, to make their fortune with their new found skills.

Back then Abilene was a savage frontier town full of gun-happy cowboys, professional gamblers and desperados of every kind. They'd finished up here at the end of their first ever drive a few months before and been plum struck dumb with awe at the big city's wonders.

First they'd been at the Drover's Cottage; the end-of-line stop off for all the cowboys, but the Texan boys made it pretty plain they didn't care for the two young Yankees. Heyes and Kid decided they'd better move on if they wanted to live much longer, finding cheap lodgings in a canvas walled boarding house on the edge of town.

The neighbourhood was kinda lively. Cowboys, fired up on cheap rot-gut whiskey would go galloping through the wide mud streets, whooping and yelling and firing off their guns, fighting and challenging each other - shootings intended and accidental were a more than daily occurrence in Abilene. The girls and their pimps, the gamblers, shootists and wild elements of every kind scared and exhilarated them all at the same time. The boys grew up quick in a place like that, but kept their heads down, stayed out of trouble and watched life; observed and learned.

Returning to Abilene was an exciting prospect. They had their act down pat having practised it in the few settlements they'd passed through on the way. Heyes had won out every time. And with all the blind, cocky assurance of his youth, Heyes was confident he was a good enough player to take just about anyone - even the professionals in Abilene.

Wearing the most tattered, dusty, homespun suit of clothes ever seen on the back of a Kansas boy straight off the farm, his mother's kisses hardly wet on his beardless face and a well-practised look of wide eyed, over awed innocence, Heyes would step into a likely saloon, look around like he'd never seen such a thing in his life, take a deep breath, hitch his britches and ask the man behind the bar if there was any poker to be had in town.

Now in every saloon along the trail so far, someone had steered him right into the highest stakes game in town (which, in these one horse places really wasn't saying much), thinking to take the young greenhorn for all he'd got. Now, Heyes thought talking them like they figured to take him was no sin and was in fact, doing the world a favour, teaching sharpies and cheats a good lesson in how to treat a stranger in town.

Course, sometimes, it turned nasty - specially when Heyes picked up that pack and began to shuffle and handle them cards like he'd got ten thumbs stead of fingers and some of the more alert around the table began to comprehend that maybe the kid wasn't quite so green as he seemed... That was where Kid came in.

Kid was dressed as quietly and unthreatening as they come. Just as Heyes' look was designed to attract the attention of the sporting fraternity with a look of down-home 'take me now fellas' naiveté; Kid had to blend into the background as much as he could. He wasn't there to be noticed - until he was needed. Then, if someone proved a little unhappy about Heyes' winnings, or reluctant to let the boy out of town with the pot; that's when Kid would step quietly over to the table. Most times he'd had to draw - men like that weren't about to listen to threats from a boy. He was so young and he looked younger. He really did look like a kid. Guess that's why Heyes' half-mocking pet name stuck to him so.

Kid'd had to draw many times to back his cousin up, but he'd never yet had to fire. He never went into that stance either. Lesser men made a big show of being ready, hands poised over their guns, fingers a cracking and a twitching. Not Kid. He'd just stand there, staring them out, calm as a summers day, hands folded on his belt, waiting for the other guy to make that first move.

Heyes never tired of seeing it. One minute, the gun was in his holster, the next it was pointed right at them. The looks on their faces! Their whiskey dulled brains just couldn't take it in.

While his partner held the gun, Heyes would scoop up his winnings, bid the town goodnight and then they'd get straight on their horses and hightail it out of there before anyone regained their senses enough to follow them.

Every town, the routine was the same. They'd ride in together - two horses, two saddles and two guns now. Heyes' winnings at poker had been consistent and rich enough to double their assets in less than five weeks. Heyes would dismount out of town and walk in to begin his act. Kid would come in after him, tie the horses to the rail and follow Heyes quietly into the saloon, where he'd sit in the corner with an untouched beer and watch for the moment he'd needed at his partner's back...

Partners! When was the first time Kid'd actually said that? Heyes couldn't remember. Another faceless trail village, no more'n a collection of cabins and tents; one exactly the same as another. He only remembered what a thrill went through him, followed by a warm glow that spread out from his heart and belly to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Partners! That's what they were. Watching out for each other. Partners now and forever.

And Abilene was their holy grail; full of dance halls, whorehouses and saloons; gamblers, professional and amateur in equal measure.  
To Heyes' surprise, Kid was nervous here. He kept pointing out that Abilene was not like the little places they'd taken on the way. This was a dangerous town full of deadly men who'd shoot you in the back if you sat too close to their beer. Heyes shrugged all that off. He was cocky and full of himself. Always was, probably always would be. He'd always needed Kid's steadying influence.

Heyes thought he'd have been long in his grave if it weren't for Kid - not just for his skill with a gun, but his practical good-sense and infallible instinct for danger. He knew how good he was with that gun. It gave him a quiet self-confidence that others could sense, but he knew his limits and didn't push beyond them. He never incited a fight, young and hot tempered as he was. He was a man wise beyond his years...

Heyes realised he was thinking of his friend in the past tense. He looked at the bottle clutched in his hand, but didn't feel like drinking alone anymore. He ordered a beer and went back to watching the room in the mirror.

The kid was still winning, a cocky, triumphant look on his face. Heyes shook his head. Th' boy was gonna get those men riled, gonna end up dead or crippled if he didn't watch out. He shoulda left the game by now, took his winnings and bowed out while the men at the table still had some dignity left. Heyes sipped at his beer and let his thoughts fly back to Abilene...

Heyes would always remember the first time he walked into the Alamo Saloon.

Glass doors! Heyes had never seen such a thing as glass doors before. He was scared to touch them. Beyond, a long room, full of polished brass, gleaming mahogany, sparkling crystal and bright mirrors. Heyes didn't need to act over-awed here. He was plain struck dumb by the sheer magnificence of it all - suddenly acutely aware of his tattered clothes and long, unwashed hair.

Nevertheless, he somehow up-rooted his down at heel boots and began to check the place over, looking for likely candidates for a game.

The room was chock full of tables offering every kind of way to lose your money. A roulette wheel - first time Heyes ever saw one in his life! He watched awhile, soon figured the odds made it a sucker's game and moved on to the poker.

He'd already felt Kid's presence at his elbow. They walked across the room - in harmony, but not together. Kid waited for Heyes to find a table before going to the bar and ordering a beer, one eye always on his partner; but never ever seeming to have anything to do with the scruffy dark haired boy at all.

Heyes found a table that suited him; one where the players didn't seem to truly understand the laws of statistics. He stood and watched, a look of hopeless excited longing on his face, playing with a twenty-dollar gold piece the whole time, waiting for some greedy soul to invite him into the game.

Didn't take long. As he sat down, he felt Kid move down the bar to watch his friend in the mirror - just as Heyes was doing with the too-smart-for-his-own-good kid at his back.

Then all that was needed was for Kid to watch and wait and hope he wouldn't be needed while his partner went to work. Kid drank his beers slowly, pretending to give the girls the eye but never once lifting his attention from Heyes as he worked over every man at the table.

He was on form that night. Four hours later, there was only one other man left in the game, a mean looking cowboy with a thick moustache and a silver trimmed hat, and Heyes soon had him cleaned out too. Then, with a tip of his tattered black hat, Heyes bid the man goodnight, cashed his chips and walked out the glass doors. Kid followed him, scanning the room for trouble as he went, casual and slow. Later, as they bedded down up in their cheap rooming house, Kid'd told Heyes what the barman'd said of him when he'd gone;

"Gosh darn it if Mark Twain weren't right! Y' niver can tell jest how far a frog kin jump by lookin at him."

That night in Abilene, Heyes netted over four hundred dollars. He remembered how they'd laid it out on the bed, counted it into piles and just looked at it. Neither of them had ever seen so much money in their entire lives.

Kid was all for retiring right there and then, use the four hundred for a stake and go west, like they'd planned when they left the home. Figured they could never need more than four hundred dollars their entire lives if they lived to be ninety nine years old.

Heyes knew was just the start, he told Kid. With this stake, they could move on to bigger and better games, make thousands of dollars.

Kid didn't like it.

"Heyes," he said. "You seen the kind of guys they got in them big games. Men like Wes Hardin, Bill Hickok. You start playing with them you gonna get yourself killed and fast..."

"Not when I got you to back me up!"

"Heyes, I'm always there for you, you know that. But I ain't about to take on Bill Hickok for yer so don't ask me!"

"Bill Hickok...!" Heyes laughed, but Kid wasn't laughing.

"I mean it Heyes! You carry on this way, it's gonna end bad. Sooner or later you're gonna get yourself killed!"

Heyes had wanted to keep on working the saloons of Abilene, but found out - over breakfast next day - he'd acquired something of a reputation. Half the town was talking about the young 'Jumping Frog' who'd taken Sam Nelson for four hundred dollars at the Alamo Saloon.

Now, Heyes could have gone on playing regular poker, but without the element of surprise, that ace of spades up his sleeve, he realised he was only going to get games with professionals; men who really knew how the game was played. He figured they had no choice but to move on.

Heyes was all for Wichita.

"Wichita! Heyes, are you crazy?" Kid yelled when he put it to him. "Wichita's worse than Abilene! It's full of wild Texans just looking for Yankee punks like you and me to use for a little target practice!"

"Ah, c'mon Kid! I'm just asking for one game! One big game. I can turn this four hundred into eight hundred, a thousand, no problem! We'll have a thousand dollars Kid! Enough to go west and not have to work again for five years or more! C'mon! One night is all I'm asking. Whaddaya say?"

And he'd agreed. Course he did. Heyes always could talk Kid into trouble any day or night of the week.

Hot as hell it was that prarie summer with a furnace wind blowing as they rode in across the grassy plains to the sordid gathering of false-front buildings and log cabins that made up the 'city' of Wichita back then.

They stopped in a tent saloon at the edge of town so's they could get a beer and a piece of pie together before splitting up for the big game in town. But Heyes couldn't help checking out the action at the tables...

'Amateurs with lots of cash Kid', he said with that gleam in his eye. Kid could see he was burning to take the place...

Kid shook his head. "Have you seen the kind of fellas playing in there? Slit their own mother's throat if she served em cold coffee. I say we head on into town like we planned."

"Aw c'mon Kid! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Left it behind in Abilene with that sharpy with the Bowie knife in his boot. Heyes, leave it! Wichita's bad enough when you're playing in a real saloon with a real sheriff watching. You start your tricks in a place like this you're gonna get us both a bullet in the back."

"Well whadda _you_ wanna do then?"

"I told you I wanna get into town to that big game you been bending my ear about for a week."

"But Kid, this is such an easy game!"  
"Heyes, please..."

"I ain't leavin'"

"Well I am!"

"Suits me!"

"You don't mean that!"

"Try me!"

Heyes sighed. He really didn't want Kid to leave, but he wasn't about to back down.

Kid was angry fit to bust. He'd about had it up to his ears with Heyes. He was so darn full of himself and how clever he was to keep winning the way he did. Kid had had enough. Heyes seemed to have forgotten he needed him to back him up.

"What if it goes wrong in there, Heyes? You need me to get you out of trouble."

"I ain't gonna get myself in trouble!"  
"Ha!" Kid laughed.

"Meaning?"

"You're always in trouble, Heyes. You know why? I'm gonna tell ya. Cos you can't keep your big mouth shut..."

"Is that a fact?"

"You never know when to stop. You rile everyone around ya, including me."

"Yeah?"

"You're tellin me you're gonna go in there alone and take on those cowboys, take their hard earned pay and expect to come out of there in one piece? Is that what you're saying?"

There was a pause then, because Heyes knew in his heart that Kid was right. And truth be told, he was scared and he didn't wanna go in alone. But he was sixteen years old; arrogant, bull-headed and sure of himself and he wasn't gonna be told what to do by a fourteen year old kid and his cousin to boot.

"So you're saying you wanna split up Kid?" he said eventually. "Break up the partnership?"

Kid was surprised, he was about to give in, but Heyes cocksure way just made him so mad.

"Well?" Heyes pressed him. "You gonna come in that saloon with me? You're a free agent Kid, stay or go, choice is yours."

"OK Heyes, that's the way you want it, I'll go."

Kid walked off back down the alley to his horse. Heyes ran after him, catching him by the arm, spinning him around to face him.

"You're really gonna go? Over something like this?"

"You going in that saloon, Heyes?"

Heyes set his face and crossed his arms. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Well, then I'm going. Cos you're my best friend and I ain't about to stay and watch you get yourself killed."

"If I'm your best friend, why are you walking out on me?"

Kid turned, with such sadness in his eyes that near broke Heyes heart to see.

"Seems to me, I ain't the one breaking up the partnership. If you're still alive tomorrow, maybe we can talk it over some. But right now, I'm going into Wichita to get me a bath and a bed for the night."

Heyes grabbed him again. Pulling out the wad of cash, he counted out two hundred dollars and held it out. Kid just looked at it. It seemed to Heyes he was on the verge of tears, but it was awful dark in that alley and he may have been imagining it - Kid didn't cry easy.

"It's yours, I don't want it," Kid said quietly.

"Ours, it's ours. we agreed we split everything down the middle."

"I don't want it Heyes. Keep it for your poker game."

Heyes shook his head. "Half of it's yours," he said, pushing the money into Kid's pocket and walking off to the saloon.

"I won't be waiting for you!" Kid yelled after him.

"OK!"  
"Heyes, I mean it, I'm not coming back for yer!"

"You said!"

Heyes glanced back to see Kid mount up and turn his horse for town. Then Kid paused, turned, looked back. Heyes ducked in through the front to of the white canvas tent and bit down the desire to look back too.

'The sure thing about winning at Poker, is that there's nothing to it so long as you happen to have an eagle eye, an nimble mind, and absolutely no scruples,' Heyes thought as he continued watching the skinny kid playing in the corner. 'The only other sure thing about poker and life is that luck has a habit of changing just when you least expect it to. Great if you're on a bad run, not so good when you're winning.'

That skinny kid back there had cleaned out five of the seven men he'd played against. The pace had slowed some, the two still in the game were much sharper than the cowboys he'd been up against before, but he was holding his own.

Heyes ordered another beer, checked his watch. Half past midnight. He was tired, but still not ready for the dark loneliness of his room.

Like the lonely feeling he got when he emerged from that tent in Wichita, three hours later. It was dark. There were no street lamps that side of town and the air seemed chill in his memory, though it must have been ninety degrees that night.

Though anyone watching him would have thought he had eyes only for his cards, Heyes'd seen the big cowboy with the moustache and silver trimmed hat sitting in the corner, watching him all night. And he knew for a certainty that Sam Nelson would be out to get his money back. And he wouldn't be wanting to play poker for it, neither.

Heyes strolled out of the tent pulling on his gloves with a nonchalant air, till he reached a dark corner where he dodged behind a wicker fence and skipped into one of the shanty whorehouses . Tipping his hat and winking to the girls, he dodged their eager hands to slip past the bar and out the back door to a dark corral. He was squatting there behind some straw bales, wondering how long it would be till he could get to his horse when he was grabbed from behind, a hand clamped tight across his mouth. The man holding him swung Heyes' skinny body easily off his feet, hauling him down into the darkest recesses between the tents and shanties. He dragged on Heyes' long hair, pulling his head back. Someone struck a match, lighting the face of Sam Nelson, a satisfied smile on his whiskered face.

"This him Sam?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Knew him the minute I seen him the little bastard.

"So, you thought you'd dodge me huh? I saw you come into town with that other one. Been watching you all night boy. I was all on my lonesome when you took me for a ride last time, but you see," he smiled, "I got my partner with me now to back me up. So you thought you'd skin the good folks of Wichita with your tricks like you done in Abilene huh?" He leaned close into Heyes face. "Well, that's the way to git a reputation boy. No one likes a man with a reputation."

He slammed his fist into Heyes' belly, driving the breath from his body , doubling him over with a grunt of pain and nausea.

"Man who goes around cheatin and lyin and shootin off his mouth the way you do needs to be taught a few lessons about life. Lesson number one..."

He drove his fist hard into Heyes stomach again. "Is that boys should be seen and not heard. You oughta keep your yapping mouth shut boy, when men is talking.

"Lesson number two..." the fist smashed into his belly once again. Heyes almost blacked out in pain and shock. He was sweating hard. He wanted to be sick.

"Is that small-time no-hope whelps like you don't go round cheating men out of their hard earned pay. Lesson number three..."

He struck Heyes hard across the eyes, so hard his head snapped back and the man holding him lost a grip on his mouth.

Heyes began to yell, hard as he could, yelling for his life; "Fire! Fire! The town's on fire!"

The two men stared around, confused and a little afraid. Fire in a dust-dry wooden town like Wichita was indeed a thing to scare a man. Already folks were running from the tents and shanties, looking about them in fear. One man shot from the whorehouse into the corral in just his longjohns, yelling;

"Where? Where in hell's the doggone fire?"

"Somebody shut him up!" Nelson yelled, waving his gun and kicking out at Heyes, trying to land another blow. The man holding him tried to get his grip back on his mouth but he twisted and squirmed like a greased pig, and all the time yelling;

"Fire! Help! Get water! Fire! Fire!"

The panic spread faster than any actual fire and soon the alleys and streets were full of frightened men and screaming women. Horses began to shy and whinny and Heyes still yelling for all he was worth about the imaginary fire sweeping through the town...

That's when Kid came riding up Main Street in search of his friend and met the unholy commotion of fifty or more men, women, horses and yapping dogs running around trying to put out a fire, 'cept Kid couldn't see no fire, couldn't smell one either.

Then - above the racket and all round affray, he heard that all too - familiar voice yelling and screaming like he was being murdered. Spurring on, he saw Heyes' horse still tied to the rail, heard the voice rising from that dark little alley where they'd parted in pique three hours before, spotted the struggle and pulled out his gun.

Next morning, as Heyes slept in, nursing multiple wounds to his body and pride, Kid slipped out to that big fancy store on Main Street. By the time Heyes woke, he had a gift for him... A silver pocket watch.

"My god, it's beautiful! Whad'ya pay for this you crazy idiot?"

"Don't matter what I paid," Kid sighed. "I saw you looking at them last time we was here and we had no money. Well, now we got some money and you always seem to want to know what the time is so... I figured you needed one."

Heyes looked up at him with his one good eye - the left had closed to a blooded, swollen crack in a welter of yellow and blue-black skin - a shame-faced, questioning look.

"Why? It ain't my birthday..."

Kid shrugged. "So's you'd know it was time to grow up and listen to sense when you hear it," he said, picking up his hat and moving to the door.

"Where you going?" Heyes asked.

"Just to get some breakfast. Why? You worried I wasn't coming back?"

Heyes smiled. "No," he said. "You always come back."

"I do don't I? Heaven only knows why though, Heyes."

"I'm sorry," Heyes said. "I shoulda listened to you. You're a wise man, Jed Curry."

Kid laughed, So did Heyes.

"Thanks, Kid," Heyes said.

"What for?"

"For the watch, of course," Heyes grinned, not wanting to say the dozen real reasons.

"So is it time for breakfast now?" Kid asked "Cos I am starving, Heyes."

Heyes took out the beat-up old watch and checked the time. Heard the seconds ticking... heard the seconds...? The room had gone awful quiet. He glanced into the mirror.

Kid Curry - dusty, bruised, his left arm in a sling, was standing behind the skinny boy, backing him up against the cowboy who seemed kinda sore - probably about the pile of money, most of it his, in front of that clever, stupid boy.

Kid was doing that thing he did; staring the man down with those blue eyes, hands resting on his belt, radiating so much danger and threat that the cowboy, drunk and angry though he was. just grabbed his hat in a rage and flung out the door into the street.

Heyes downed the last of his beer, watching and smiling as Kid turned the boy away from the front door where he'd been headed, took a couple of minutes to give the lad some friendly advice and steered him into the arms of the barman with a request to show him a safer way out of the building.

"What'd you say to him?" Heyes asked, meeting his friend's eyes in the mirror as he ordered him a beer.

"Just offerin a little friendly advice."

"The benefit of your long experience backing up stupid kids with bigger mouths than brains?"

"Something like that," Kid said, turning to him with a smile.

"So now you've put the world to rights yet again, are you gonna tell me where in hell have you been?"

"Worried about me partner?" Kid grinned.

"Worried? 'Bout you? You're big enough to take care of yourself."

The beer arrived and Heyes took the opportunity to let a happy grin escape as he watched his friend down it thirstily.

"OK," Kid said as he came up for air. "I for one am not ain't ashamed to admit, I've been worrying about leavin _you_ all alone in a place like this. You been talking your way into trouble as usual?" He glanced round at the rough and ready saloon. "What happened? Lose all your money?"

"On the contrary, I have made us a substantial pile."

"Well that's good, cos I lost all the money Smiley paid me for the Harperville job."

"What...?" Heyes stopped then, looking over Kids bruises and the sling. "Couldn't you at least have sent a wire? You're three days late goddammit!"

"I couldn't wire you cos I had no money. I got robbed!"

"Robbed?"

Heyes stared at him in disbelief. Kid 's look of outrage changed to embarrassment. "Yeah. I got robbed. It happens. Lot of gold coming out of these hills. Men getting robbed on the road every day. What?"

Heyes was smiling and shaking his head. He dropped his voice low as he said, "Kid Curry, fastest gun in the west got himself rolled by a bunch of common highwaymen? You oughta be ashamed of yourself!"

Kid got that indignant look of wounded pride that always made Heyes smile.

"There was a whole bunch of them, only one of me..."

"Thought your gun could shoot two bullets?" Heyes grinned.

"Very funny! They shot at my horse! Panicked her, brought me down hard. What are you laughin at? I mighta broken my neck! Took my money, took my gun. I hurt my arm..."

"How is that?" Heyes asked in genuine concern.  
Kid shrugged. "Thought it was broke but it's just a sprain. It does hurt some though."

"Sorry I laughed."

"They took my horse too, I had to walk for miles. Had to risk walking back into Harperville and Luke Sawyer cause I couldn't see how else I was gonna get back here cept to borrow money off of Smiley. We owe him a hundred dollars by the way. You got it?"  
Heyes nodded. "Well, I was wonderin' how you got so dirty..." he said.

"Me?" Kid laughed. "I'm dirty?"  
"You sure are."  
"I got an excuse to be a little dusty. Look at you! I mean, I don't rightly know how to say this politely partner, but I'm telling you as a friend, you really need a bath."

"Yeah," Heyes sighed. "You're probably right about that.

"Ain't no probably about it!"

"Well," he said, gripping a hold of the bottle he'd bought, "You wanna come back to the room, share a bottle of whiskey with your best and only friend?"

Kid took a jaundiced look at the bottle of cheap rot-gut Heyes was holding and shook his head with a look of horror.

"No thank you! You gonna drink that, or rub it on yourself to keep the flies off?"  
Heyes grinned. "You know, I've kinda lost the need for it myself."

"Well partner, since you claim to be in the money, how about you take me out on the town and we go get something to eat and a beer, closely followed by another beer and several whiskeys. The Welcome saloon down the street looks about right."

"The one next to Mattie's bordello?"

Kid grinned happily. "Well, I would suggest, seeing as this is a twenty four hour a day kinda town, that you and me both take a bath. Specially you. Then a nice soft bed sounds just about right..."

"Mine or one of Mattie's?"

"Well I ain't sharing yours till you clean up!"

Kid finished his beer, Heyes paid and they walked out into the cold street.

"So what you say to the kid, Kid?" Heyes asked with a smile.

"Told him if he ain't got someone to look after him, he oughta learn to use that gun he's wearing. Better still, he should find himself a good partner to take care of things like that."

"Well amen to that!" Heyes said, clamping a hand on Kid's shoulder and steering his friend down the street.


End file.
